


Waterloo

by brainsout



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference, they're in love but they don't know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainsout/pseuds/brainsout
Summary: Sometimes after long days they’ll fuck each other like it’s half a battle, teeth and nails and no real concern because they’ve been on top of each other so many times, play wrestled and fought so many times that it’s almost natural for the next step to be that- relieving stress by pinning each other to the floor or the mattress or any other flat surface and seeing who ultimately comes out on top.But there’s no fight in Chanyeol’s limbs tonight, no tension at all, and Kyungsoo likes this too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> when will someone teach me how to write porn that isn't wildly sentimental  
> the title is from... the abba song

Kyungsoo’s had his phone off since midday because he likes the concrete knowledge that he’s free to work uninterrupted, doesn’t want to risk his phone lighting up halfway across set and catching his eye, doesn’t want to risk his manager jogging it, ringing, over to him so he can pretend to think about answering the call before pressing ignore. He likes to concentrate on his work. The work he’s doing _now_. 

He finishes filming for the week but, selfishly, maybe, he leaves his phone off. If the company really needs him they can reach his manager easier anyway.

It’s around 2 AM local time when he finally gets in a car en route to their Bangkok hotel, and Kyungsoo has to blink at the clock on the dashboard for nearly five minutes before he can make any sense of how long it’s been since he’s slept. He knows he’s sharing a room with Chanyeol for the next two nights and it sends his heart rate up to think about. He misses him.

He slips into an uneasy sleep with his head tilted against his own shoulder and dreams of a night two, three years ago, when Chanyeol had drunkenly snuck a kiss against Kyungsoo’s temple and was delighted when Kyungsoo didn’t punch him for it. In his dream he watches Chanyeol sit up in bed and send texts that struggle for a few moments before returning with a failure notice. 

The car pulls to a stop and his manager reaches back, wakes him up with a hand to his shoulder. He grips his phone in his pocket and undoes his seatbelt, clambers out, feels the ache in his legs and shoulders from being in planes and cars for the last 17 hours. He takes one of his bags and his manager shoulders the other, pays the driver and pats Kyungsoo on the back to get him moving towards the front doors and Kyungsoo should be making small talk, asking questions about the hotel or the venue or _something_ , but all he can think is Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, however many floors above him, warm bodied and soft hearted and alone. 

They get their room keys and his manager’s room is a floor below Kyungsoo’s. He reminds him as the doors open that they have rehearsal at 10 the next day and Kyungsoo nods as if he doesn’t already have an alarm set, as if even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have eight other people to wake him up in time.

“I know,” he says, voice hoarse, and his manager looks a bit sorry. 

“Get some rest, Kyungsoo,” he says, and Kyungsoo rides to the next floor alone.

The plan, in his head, is to find Chanyeol splayed out in bed in their room- they have two queens this time, he thinks his manager said, which means Chanyeol will almost have enough room for all his limbs. He’ll shower, slip into bed behind him and Chanyeol won’t wake up because he’s a heavy sleeper and Kyungsoo will be extra careful not to jostle him. They can wake up together in the morning and spend a few precious hours together before they need to head to rehearsal. 

But when he scans his key and pushes through the door it’s immediately obvious that Chanyeol isn’t in bed. The TV is on, illuminating the room in dim flickers of light, droning barely loud enough to be audible. Chanyeol puts it on for background noise, Kyungsoo knows, to make the rooms feel less empty. His laptop is open but dark on the coffee table and Chanyeol is half curled up against the arm of the couch, head tucked towards his chest and one leg drawn up, one flat on the floor. Kyungsoo’s heart seizes up.

He sets his bags on the floor, shrugs out of his coat, decides against turning the lights on. He knows he should just shower, then get Chanyeol up and into bed so they can both get some rest, knows he should let him sleep as much as he can, but he just- 

“Soo?” Chanyeol mumbles, and Kyungsoo feels caught for some reason, feels guilty. He’d meant to be quieter. 

Chanyeol is blinking at him and sitting up and Kyungsoo is in front of him before he even realizes he’s moving his legs. It happens like a dream, hazy and far too coordinated for how tired they both are. Chanyeol sits up straight, gets his hands on Kyungsoo’s waist and helps him clamber up onto the couch and straddle Chanyeol’s thighs. Chanyeol kisses him like it’s a synonym for _Hello, I missed you, I’ve been waiting_ , and Kyungsoo can’t stop himself from smiling into it.

“Why’re you in here,” he murmurs, pulling back and cupping Chanyeol’s face to get a good look at him. Chanyeol’s eyes get watery at night, during the winters and Kyungsoo swipes at his eyelashes with a thumb, gently rubs the sleep out of them and wipes his thumb carelessly on the sofa. Chanyeol scrunches his face up in sleepy disgust when he realizes what Kyungsoo is doing and reaches up to scrub at his eyes himself. 

“You’re so gross,” he whines. “I was waiting for you to get back,” and Kyungsoo’s guilt creeps back. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, tilts Chanyeol’s head back up so he can kiss him again, and Chanyeol hums into it, slides his hands back down to Kyungsoo’s hips and tugs him closer. He scoots closer to the edge of the couch so that Kyungsoo has room to sit fully in his lap and it sends a little thrum of pleasure down his spine how easily Chanyeol can move him around, hold him. 

Chanyeol kisses him on the cheek, deceptively chaste in a way that’s all natural sincerity, all sweetness and it takes him by surprise like always, but then he’s kissing his way down Kyungsoo’s jaw, breathing hot on his neck and rocking his hips up and Kyungsoo can’t keep the fondness out of his smile, out of his voice. 

“I need to shower, Chanyeol,” he breathes, and the arm around his back tightens. 

“Are you gonna make me wait outside?” Chanyeol mumbles it into his collarbone through the starch of his shirt, manages to snake one hand up in between them to press, rough, over Kyungsoo’s nipple. Kyungsoo can feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric and he covers Chanyeol’s hand with his own. 

“I’m not gonna make you wait outside, idiot,” he says.

*

Chanyeol is half hard before Kyungsoo even gets the water turned on, and even getting to that point takes them twice as long as it should. Chanyeol ducks in close to peck his cheek or his nose or his lips every time Kyungsoo undoes a button, and Kyungsoo finally manages to toe off both his shoes but it’s one step forward, two steps back because Chanyeol takes the opportunity to crowd him against the sink and palm him through his jeans. 

Kyungsoo’s hips stutter of his own accord and he laughs, presses firm at Chanyeol’s shoulders to get him back. “I need to shower for real,” he chides. “You’re so impatient. You’re not even trying.”

And he’s right, Chanyeol is just as clothed as he was when Kyungsoo walked in the door, a hoodie and shorts even though it’s near freezing outside, legs as long and scrawny as ever. Kyungsoo pushes him back until he’s seated on the toilet and reaches down to tug the hoodie up and off. 

“I’ve been patient,” Chanyeol whines from half inside his hoodie, and when Kyungsoo finally pops it all the way off he finds Chanyeol pouting at him with dewy eyes, reaching for Kyungsoo as soon as his arms are free. 

His hands find Kyungsoo’s bare waist through the open curtain of his shirt. “All day,” he continues, thumbs rubbing at Kyungsoo’s ribcage. 

Kyungsoo knows Chanyeol isn’t guilting him, probably doesn’t even know that Kyungsoo feels bad for missing texts or making Chanyeol wait up alone for him, so he shoves the hurt down in favor of getting the rest of Chanyeol’s clothes off. “I know,” he soothes, voice low. “Pants off, babe.”

*

There isn’t really enough room for both of them in the shower, even if it’s bigger than the showers at the dorms and they manage to squeeze two people into those all the time. Kyungsoo lets Chanyeol steal one last kiss from him, water streaming down both their faces, before he gently separates them and ducks into the spray. The hot water feels like heaven on his sore body, on his irritated skin, even somehow on his scalp where the hair is cropped short but growing out in a way that makes Kyungsoo itch to shave it closer to the skin again. 

Chanyeol is quiet while Kyungsoo does his own washing, sitting himself on the edge of the tub and tilting his face up towards the steam. It doesn’t take him long to work a dime of shampoo through his hair, and he didn’t unpack his things so he uses Chanyeol’s bodywash to scrub the sweat and grime and stale air off of his body. When he looks back down Chanyeol’s eyes are shut and the image tugs at his chest, his heart, makes him feel like his lungs are filling with water and there’s no way to empty them.

“You want to wash your hair?” He asks, half to distract himself. Chanyeol grumbles and Kyungsoo knows what it means. 

“You want _me_ to wash your hair?” 

Chanyeol blinks doe eyes at him, reaches up for Kyungsoo’s wrist and places it on his own head. “I already did,” he says. “Earlier. But you can do it again.” The realization hits him that Chanyeol is clean, already, doesn’t need to be in here, crowding his huge body into a shower meant for one person half his size, sitting on the tub where it has to be cold at his back. 

“You’re staring at me,” Chanyeol points out, and Kyungsoo tries to slow the pressing staccato of his heartbeat. He’s tired. He’s overthinking. He turns his body to face him, holds Chanyeol’s head in both hands and leans down to kiss him through the water on both their lips.

“Tomorrow night, I will,” he says. “If you shampoo too much it’ll dry out.” He tries to straighten up but Chanyeol chases him for another kiss, pulls him back down with a hand on his wrist. “Will you fuck me tonight?” he asks bluntly, and Kyungsoo groans despite himself, bites at Chanyeol’s bottom lip and licks into his mouth and nods. 

“Yes,” he exhales, “Yeah, I’ll fuck you,” and this time Chanyeol grins and allows him to pull away, to turn the water back off, to yank the curtain open and send the steam dissipating into the relative chill of the bathroom. 

Sometimes after long days they’ll fuck each other like it’s half a battle, teeth and nails and no real concern because they’ve been on top of each other so many times, play wrestled and fought so many times that it’s almost natural for the next step to be that- relieving stress by pinning each other to the floor or the mattress or any other flat surface and seeing who ultimately comes out on top. 

Admittedly, it’s still usually Kyungsoo, with more aggression pent up in his tiny body on a normal day than Chanyeol could ever really hope for, who ends up straddling Chanyeol’s waist or catching him tight in a choke hold when Chanyeol eventually tires out. Ultimately, Chanyeol fights because he likes the closeness, the playfulness, he likes the press of another body against his and the thrill of breathlessness it brings. Kyungsoo fights because he likes to fight. 

But there’s no fight in Chanyeol’s limbs tonight, no tension at all, and Kyungsoo likes this too. Chanyeol gets to his feet and lets Kyungsoo pull him in by the waist, lets him press a palm flat to the little arch of his spine and hold him close. Chanyeol’s fingers are wrapped around his arm but it’s nothing but a shadow of a press, and Kyungsoo kisses fond right where his collarbones turn up into the hollow of his throat. 

Kyungsoo gets them both dry enough that they won’t soak the sheets and then urges Chanyeol out, hand still on his lower back. 

“Bed,” he says. “Should I get the lube from my bag or-” Chanyeol rounds on him with another chaste kiss as if it’s the most efficient way to interrupt, says, “No, I have some in there,” and Kyungsoo doesn’t know how many more times he can fall in love in one night. 

“Okay,” he says, trying to will the smile off his face because he knows it’s the type that shows his gums, the type that makes him look happier than he’s comfortable looking most of the time. He gives Chanyeol a pat on the ass to get him moving towards the bed, scanning the dark for Chanyeol’s bag and digging through it for the lube when he finally locates it.

Chanyeol’s sitting on the bed when he turns back around, watching him with his hands smoothing anxiously at the sheets and Kyungsoo can’t be back on top of him fast enough, can’t press their mouths together fast enough, can’t link their fingers fast enough and the way that Chanyeol melts beneath him is devastating. 

“I’m sorry you had to wait for me,” he whispers, and Chanyeol is shaking his head but Kyungsoo holds him still by the chin, kisses the shell of his ear. 

“I’m sorry my phone was off,” and a kiss to the center of his chest,

“I’m sorry you fell asleep on the couch,” and a mark sucked onto Chanyeol’s collarbone, low enough to be covered by a T-shirt. 

He surges back up to swallow Chanyeol’s protests, forces his apologies to linger so he knows they’ve both heard them, and then he’s gripping Chanyeol’s hips and yanking him down to lie flat. He can feel Chanyeol’s cock pressing into his thigh and he reaches down to stroke, twists his fingers slow and hard the way that always has Chanyeol begging. 

“You want me to fuck you tonight?” He asks, watching as Chanyeol’s expression crumples, as his breath hitches. 

“Kyungsoo,” he whines, and Kyungsoo shushes him, moves down all at once to hike Chanyeol’s leg up over his shoulder. He kisses at his knee, smiles when it makes Chanyeol twitch. 

“Please,” Chanyeol cries, and Kyungsoo has never been in the business of denying Chanyeol anything. He shifts closer and bends enough to get the head of Chanyeol’s cock in his mouth, doesn’t rebuke him when he thrusts immediately into the warmth. 

He knows from experience that Chanyeol’s cock is too long for Kyungsoo to slide down to the hilt, but he takes as much as he can at once, makes up for it with what little technique he’s learned over the years- most of it from Chanyeol himself. 

He wraps his fist around the base where his mouth can’t reach, builds a rhythm between the suction of his throat and the spit-slick press of his fingers. He’s proud when a groan tears itself out of Chanyeol’s chest, deep and broken and desperate. 

Fingers find his cheek, cup his face and thumb along his cheekbone. “Kyungsoo,” he keens, hips shifting in tiny increments like he’s trying hard to stay still. Kyungsoo pulls off and hums, kissing down the shaft until he’s at the soft skin of Chanyeol’s hips.

“What is it,” he says, biting the thin flesh and pressing Chanyeol back into the mattress when he jerks up with a cry. 

“Fuck me,” Chanyeol whines again, “ _Please_ ,” and he’s so shameless, so easy, that Kyungsoo can’t deny him even when what he wants is to spend another hour, another two hours, the rest of his life pressing the blunt of his teeth to Chanyeol’s skin and coaxing out every delicate sound he hasn’t had the chance to hear yet. There’s never enough time. There never will be. 

“Okay,” he breathes, ghosting three more quick bites to Chanyeol’s thigh before he shoots his hand out to pat around for the lube. Chanyeol’s fingers press the bottle into his hand and as he sits up to push Chanyeol’s legs up he kisses his ankle in thanks. 

“How do you want it,” he asks, and Chanyeol is still huffing little half breaths like the air around them is too thin to breathe, whining, but he rasps out, “I want to ride you,” and Kyungsoo has to exhale heavy to keep his composure, to keep from grinding his cock into the mattress or Chanyeol’s thigh or the hard line of his abdomen and coming like that, hopelessly turned on, brain useless beyond replaying the image of Chanyeol sitting on his cock.

“Fuck,” he says. “Chanyeol,” and there’s breathless laughs caught in both their throats as Kyungsoo situates Chanyeol’s legs on either shoulder, as he leans down quick to press a kiss to Chanyeol’s now-bitten lips. Chanyeol groans as he’s bent near in half but he’s still smiling into it, eager as ever. 

He makes short work of slicking his fingers, gauging Chanyeol’s reaction as he presses the first in. His brows furrow and Kyungsoo wishes he had a free hand to smooth it back out, but Chanyeol is making pleased little noises, pressing his hips up like he wants more and Kyungsoo easily accommodates him, pulling out and pushing back in with two fingers, twisting a bit to find the angle that will make Chanyeol shudder beneath him. 

“You can- I’m ready,” Chanyeol says, face flushed and Kyungsoo watches him as he twists and scissors his fingers, watches him bite his lip and look at Kyungsoo like he’s pleading for something bigger than what they’re doing. “You sure?” Kyungsoo asks, leveraging one of Chanyeol’s legs down to rest flat footed on the mattress, knee still bent. He presses himself a little closer, uses his newly free hand to grasp Chanyeol’s cock and tug. 

Chanyeol moans and Kyungsoo presses a third finger in, slow and careful, even though Chanyeol didn’t ask for it. He doesn’t like when they rush. 

“Ah- Soo, I’m gonna come if you don’t-” His hips falter like he can’t decide which direction to move them in and Kyungsoo relents, pulls both hands away at once and laughs when Chanyeol whines at the loss. 

“Come on then,” he says, moving to flop down on his back besides Chanyeol, who immediately twists over for a kiss when he realizes Kyungsoo’s mouth is finally close enough again. He’s shaky when he starts to push himself up and Kyungsoo watches him with careful eyes, steadies him with a hand on his hip. 

Chanyeol grabs the lube before he can get to it and pours a generous amount into his own palm, looking concentrated as he reaches down to coat Kyungsoo’s cock. It’s the first attention that either of them have paid to it all night and Kyungsoo can’t keep himself silent, can’t stifle his moan when Chanyeol gives him a few strokes. He’s not gonna last a second like this. 

He helps Chanyeol line himself up and holds his hips so hard he’s sure there’ll be bruises in the morning when Chanyeol finally slides down, breath coming in pants and thighs shaking from the exertion. He braces both hands on Kyungsoo’s chest and it’s not the first time Kyungsoo is thankful for his personal trainer because four years ago he doesn’t know if he would have been able to support the weight of Chanyeol fucking himself on his cock like this. 

He closes his eyes to try and keep himself from coming before they’ve even started, but Chanyeol whines, “Hey, don’t,” moves one hand up to Kyungsoo’s jaw and tapping his index finger there. “Am I ugly?” he says, mock pouting, and Kyungsoo hides his smile by turning to kiss Chanyeol’s fingertips. 

“Hideous,” he says, gathers the strength to shift his legs and thrust up, making Chanyeol cry out. His hand comes down hard on Kyungsoo’s throat when he braces himself but Kyungsoo doesn’t complain, just repeats his action, knees coming up behind Chanyeol and helping him keep his rhythm. “Shit,” he breathes, “Just let me,” and he’s too out of breath to explain himself but Chanyeol doesn’t protest when he tugs him down by the back of the neck and grinds up hard and fast and relentless, pulling little heaving whines out of Chanyeol’s throat with each movement, and then he’s coming, probably clutching too hard at Chanyeol’s skin, probably making a more broken noise than he realizes but he doesn’t have the mind to care. 

Chanyeol finds room between them to jerk himself off as Kyungsoo comes down from his high, guides one of Kyungsoo’s hands to his chest and holds it there like a token, long fingers dwarfing Kyungsoo’s own. He spills into his own hand and crumples back down, breathless, back arched, face buried in the pillow besides Kyungsoo’s head. 

They come back to themselves and each other overheated and sweaty, both of them needing another shower but too spent to get up and take one. Kyungsoo feels like the world is turning too fast or too slow or both at once and it’s Chanyeol that finally gets up to get a wash cloth, and when that fails him he tugs them both back into the shower to clean up, supporting Kyungsoo’s tired weight easier than Kyungsoo expected. 

*

The next morning, Kyungsoo has to reach over Chanyeol to silence his alarm, and afterwards he pulls back enough to press a kiss to Chanyeol’s eyebrow, to the bridge of his nose, to his lips, opens heavy eyelids to find Chanyeol’s gaze trained on his own. His eyes are bright as ever, but glazed and so completely lovesick that it makes Kyungsoo’s chest twist bright with anxiety because he knows his own eyes must be exact mirrors of it.

He distracts himself with another kiss, humming when Chanyeol brings a hand up to the back of his neck, his palm big and warm and grounding as ever.


End file.
